


A Rat Among Weasels

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-01
Updated: 2005-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-19 18:07:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12415242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Remus, Sirius, James, and Lily attempt to make Yuletide merry with the shadow of You-Know-Who hanging over them while Peter opts for escape.





	A Rat Among Weasels

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

_Well, a rat always knows when he’s in with weasels_  
Here you lose a little every day.   
Well, I remember when a million was a million They all have ways to make you pay. 

“Little Drop of Poison”� by Tom Waits

**(1)** This line is borrowed from Fiddler on the Roof.

 

**A Rat Among Weasels** written for the July Scrivenshaft Challenge

 

Peter Pettigrew shifted restlessly on his stool and took a long draught from his mug of firewhisky. His eyes flickered backward to the door of the pub as it banged open, letting in a flurry of snow and a burst of icy wind before the door slammed shut again.

Was that … _them_? Peter wondered, terror coursing through his veins as he watched the three heavily-cloaked figures stamp snow off their shoes and then settle themselves at a table near the back of the nondescript and nameless pub hidden among the jumble of shops of Knockturn Alley–a perfect place for a meeting with those who served … _him_. 

The name was too dark, too full of the pain and sorrow of hundreds, maybe thousands, of wizards for even one such as Peter–a soon-to-be traitor–to whisper aloud or even think for that matter. 

Deciding that it was now or never, Peter rose to his feet, his mug of firewhisky clutched tightly in his shaking hands as he made his way towards the trio’s table, who still hadn’t removed their cloaks.

His feet had never felt more like turning back as step by step he came closer to the table. 

Was this really worth it? His friends, the Order, Dumbledore … he would betray them all … and they would be murdered–every last one of them.. 

A lump formed in Peter’s throat, and it throbbed painfully. 

But, then again, he’d made the necessary contacts, trying to ensure protection for himself. If he turned and ran now, three feet from the table, surely he’d be the next marked for death? The next to be found with terror in his lifeless eyes and a haze of eerie green stars floating above him?

No, Peter thought determinedly, that wouldn’t be his fate. He would endure like the rat he was, a survivor while his fellow beasts perished. 

The Order was outnumbered twenty to one by his followers; this was the only way. 

****

“Oy! Where’s Wormtail?”� called Sirius from where he lay halfway under the Christmas tree in the sitting room of his small house, pretending to be hanging ornaments on the lower branches when he was really examining the pile of wrapped gifts labeled to him and attempting to remember some sort of charm that would allow to see inside the box without actually opening it. “Is he here yet?”� 

“How the bloody well should I know?”� responded Remus irritably as he concentrated on levitating ornaments onto the higher branches of the tree, a precarious process. 

“Man’s got a point,”� agreed Lily from the comfort of an armchair as she bounced her and James’s nearly five month old son Harry on her knee, who gurgled and laughed appreciatively. “Everything’s just been chaotic lately what with all the Order work everyone’s been doing. It’s a wonder we've managed to find a night for all of us to get together to exchange gifts!”�

“That’s what I mean,”� replied Sirius, emerging out from under the tree and shaking a few pine needles from his dark hair. “Wormtail said he’d come; he _promised_ he’d make it this time.”� 

“Well, I’m sure he’ll show up soon then,”� she said, shifting a little uneasily and wrapping her arms around Harry protectively. 

It was true though that everything had been rather hectic lately for the Marauders and Lily along with the rest of the Order of the Phoenix. They were losing members and fast. Only a few weeks ago Dumbledore had gravely reported that one of their most talented members, Dorcas Meadows, an Auror and a powerful one at that, had been killed personally by You-Know-Who. No one was quite sure how Dumbledore knew it had been done by You-Know-Who himself–he obviously hadn’t projected a boasting sign above Dorcas’s dead body stating he was her murderer–but they all were well aware that Dumbledore _had his sources_.

As a result of this sheer burden of overwork felt by all, the Marauders in particular were slowly beginning to drift apart. They could all feel it, and they still tried to cling to each other as they once had, but the cracks and strain were beginning to show. Lily and James were married with a baby, and the other three each had their own respective roles within the Order, only which the individual and Dumbledore knew fully what their particular role entailed. Each day they lost a little of the bond they had formed as schoolboys, and it was replaced by fear and grim determination to end this war once and for all and restore what they once had. 

Just then, the front door burst open, and Sirius, Remus, and Lily all instinctively reached for the wands. 

“Who’s got firewhisky?”� said a familiar voice cheerily, and James stepped over the threshold, holding up a large bottle of Ogden’s Old in one hand and brushing snow out of his messy black hair with the other. “My, aren’t we all jumpy?”� he observed as everyone hastily lowered their wands.

“You can never be too careful these days,”� said Lily grimly as James kissed her cheek, and she held up baby Harry, so James could kiss him too. After his coos over his son earned him a few raised eyebrows from Remus and Sirius, James cleared his throat in a manly way and asked, “Glasses, Padfoot?”� 

“Somewhere in the kitchen,”� said Sirius vaguely, waving a hand towards one of the doors out of the sitting room. He then scooped Harry out of Lily’s arms. “You have just got to be the greatest godson a bloke could have!”� he said proudly, holding the boy up so he could look him in the eye. “You’re going to grow up to be exactly like your father and your Uncle Padfoot, aren’t you?”� 

“Dear Merlin, I hope not!”� groaned Lily, putting a hand to her heart. “I don’t think I can handle two of James in the house!”�

“It’s too late, Lily! He’s got that gleam in his eye!”� said Sirius mournfully, pretending to wipe away a tear. He turned to Remus and held up Harry. “Doesn’t he have the gleam, Moony?”�

Remus examined Harry closely and then shook his head, smiling slightly. “I’m afraid it’s a lost cause, Lily. It’s there–plain as day.”� 

She immediately buried her head in a cushion and moaned until James returned carrying two glasses of firewhisky with three others charmed to follow him through the air out of the kitchen. 

“One for me, one for Padfoot, one for Lily, one for Moony, one for–hey where’s Wormtail?”� James asked, holding up the remaining glass.

“Not here yet,”� replied Remus.

“He promised he’d come,”� Sirius stated again. “He _promised_.”�

Everyone exchanged fretful looks before James finally said, “What should we toast?”�

“To friendship!”� said Remus immediately.

“Hear, hear!”� called everyone else in response.

“To love and marriage!”� said James, grinning at Lily. 

“Hear, hear!”�

“To our children!”� murmured Lily, gazing fondly at Harry, who’d fallen asleep in Sirius’s lap. 

“Hear, hear!”� 

“And, most importantly, to life!”� cheered Sirius, raising his glass high. **(1)**

“Hear, hear!”� 

Everyone raised up their glasses and clinked them together before taking large gulps of their drinks, which burned like wildfire all the way down their throats. 

****

“Wormtail, I presume?”� inquired one of the cloaked figures, his tone rather bored as he took a sip of his drink. 

“Y–yes,”� Peter stammered, feeling himself quake as he wondered who exactly those shadowed faces belonged to. “I was told one of the Malfoys would be meeting me?”�

“That would be me,”� replied the same cloaked figure. “Lucius Malfoy. And the Lestranges–Mr and Mrs,”� he added, motioning to his companions. 

Peter almost held out a hand but then thought better of it. 

“Well, sit down, man, we haven’t got all night!”� snapped another figure, this one definitely cruel and female. 

He hurriedly sat. 

“Now, I’m sure you’re quite familiar with our line of work,”� Malfoy continued, a fond caress to his voice, “but our master has a particular job in mind for you.”�

“And what would that be?”� asked Peter, trying to sound much more brave than he felt. 

“The role of a double-agent more or less,”� said Malfoy smoothly. “You relay information about Dumbledore’s plans to us and–“

“You want me to spy on Dumbledore?”� Peter hissed, a cold sweat beginning on his brow. “That’s impossible! I _can’t_!”� 

“I told you we shouldn’t trust this little rat, Lucius!”� growled another male voice from beneath the third cloak hood. “He’s already turned on them; who’s to say he won’t turn on us as well?”�

“Calm yourself, Rodolphus,”� replied Malfoy. “I’m sure he’s well aware of what our master orders on those who try and betray him, aren’t you, Wormtail?”�

“Yes. Death,”� mumbled Peter, lowering his gaze to the grimy tabletop to keep them from seeing the look of pure terror in his eyes. 

“And we are all more than eager to root out those less than fully loyal to our master,”� added the woman, her tone poisonous. “Those in high favor have considerable protection from his wrath–more so then the rest at least.”� 

Peter suddenly realized that these three hardly cared a wit if he joined them or not. They were only following orders from their master, who was well aware of how valuable someone in Peter’s position could be. These three and their fellows wouldn’t be his friends after he’d joined up; they’d weasel him out the second they found something worthwhile to call him on. Favor with their master was the goal; everything and everyone else were expendable. 

They played a game for their own survival just like him, and Peter supposed that being a rat among weasels was better than death by refusing a change in loyalty, one he himself had stupidly offered first.

He took a deep breath and said firmly, “I’ll do it.”� 

“Excellent,”� replied Malfoy softly. “Then there is the matter of your initiation. Someone will come to you two weeks from now, the full moon, and they will take you to our master.”�

Peter’s heart gave a painful wrench at the mention of the full moon. 

“G–great,”� he stammered, slowly rising to his feet. “Really great. I should be off then. I’ll see you all soon I suppose?”�

“Undoubtedly,”� replied Malfoy shortly.

“Great,”� Peter repeated. 

He struggled to his feet and hurried out the pub door into the falling snow before collapsing against an alley wall with a sob, a mixture of horror and triumph coursing through him. 

He’d done it. He’d betrayed them all. 

With another soft sob, he remembered he was due at Sirius’s house, and as he hurried through the snow a thought struck him. 

His friends would have each sacrificed their own life for him, and now Peter was sacrificing their lives for his own at the first chance of escape he’d found.


End file.
